Caught in the Middle
by Durhelediel
Summary: Young Padawan Qui-Gon is captured and brutally tortured. Can his Master and best friend save him before it's too late? FINISHED!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: None of the recognizable Star Wars characters belong to me. I just take them out of their playpins and play with them when I need to beat somebody up. I don't even make any money off of it. Bummer.

Acknowledgement: Thanks to Lay'ren and Marian for the borrowing of their character, Kyran Josel. Lay'ren always gets to see my stories before they go out and she's always saying, "Write more!" Her encouragement is priceless. Thanks Lay'ren.

Seventeen year-old Qui-Gon Jinn gradually opened his eyes and immediately wished that he hadn't. His eyes felt like two dry mounds of sandpaper that scratched and burned every time his eyelids moved over them. 

"Take it easy there," a female voice echoed and reverberated around in his brain. In his groggy condition, he couldn't tell exactly where the other voice was coming from or even how far away the other person was.

He tried to lift himself up and found that his muscles wouldn't respond to his commands. Instead of moving his arm, a finger twitched once. Not what he was going for.

"I said take it easy," the voice said, a bit harder this time. "They've been keeping you drugged pretty heavily over the past few days. Your muscles will slowly start to obey you but don't rush it or you'll regret it."

He groaned and tried to ask her where he was but the only sound that came out was a faint jumble of incoherent mumbles.

A sound came to his ears of a sliding, almost like someone dragging themselves across a floor. The female voice was closer and more located now. "Hush now. Don't try to talk. The muscles in your lips aren't working either. Let's see…what would you want to know? Probably where you are. Tough. I can't answer that because I don't know either. More than likely you'd like to know how long you've been here. Sorry—I can't answer that either. All I know is that I've been here longer than you, although you look worse than me." Here she chuckled. "I don't know what else you'll want to know, except for who has you and why. I'm not going to answer that because I'm sure that they'll explain that themselves. How are you feeling now?"

Qui-Gon tried again to lift himself and found that this time his arm moved, though little else obeyed him. His eyes felt slightly more lubricated, though now he could feel his muscles aching all over his body, as if he had been in a speeder crash.

Bits of memory came to him then of being in a speeder, high above one of the many levels of Coruscant. He had been trying to find information for…Master Dooku! Someone had been sending threatening messages to his master that related to a mission that Master Dooku had just recently been on. He had been investigating some rumors of who was sending them and had just left a cantina in one of the lower levels….

Qui-Gon frowned as he entered his speeder. The informant that he had just made many painstaking plans to meet and talk to had revealed nothing that would help him discover the source of the messages Master Dooku had been receiving. If he thought more about it, he would have to believe that his 'informant' has simply been wasting his time. But why?

Shaking his head slightly, he powered up and lifted off, ready to return to the Jedi Temple and Master Dooku. He still had some time to meditate on tonight's fruitless journey before his master discovered him missing. Master Dooku did not know that he was conducting his own private investigation of the messages. He would tell Qui-Gon to "leave it be" since the Jedi Council said that nothing harmful would come of the threats to Master Dooku's life, or his own. Yet Qui-Gon couldn't just leave it alone—he felt that there was something more sinister underneath these messages, although he couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

As he began the intricate dance of flying through the buildings, walkways, struts and girders that made up each level of Coruscant, he gradually became aware of the fact that he was being followed. It was an elusive feeling, one that was difficult for him to pin down, but it was there.

Qui-Gon glanced as unobtrusively as possible over his shoulder…and saw a large transport vehicle closing in on him. Eyes widening, he flooded the speeder to make it produce the highest speed it could as he attempted to outrun the transport. His followers evidently realized that their cover was blown and so they began to pursue him in earnest. 

Qui-Gon riveted his attention to flying at top speed through the bowels of Coruscant, watching as buildings crammed together whizzed past him, becoming blurs and wisps of sound. He hated flying and he most especially hated flying this fast in a crowded metropolis. Humans and aliens flashed by, shaking fists and shouting at him in a variety of languages to slow down, then having to dive out of the way as the transport came streaking by.

It was when he decided to check on the length of the distance between himself and the transport that he made his mistake. 

He turned back to focus on coaxing more speed out of the speeder and saw that he was headed directly for a low-hanging advertisement for a shady cantina/nightclub. He had just enough time to see the brightly lit dancing humanoid women before his speeder plowed into the sign.

Sparks flew around him, burning into his skin, and the speeder coughed, then died. Dropping altitude rapidly, his stomach in his feet, Qui-Gon tried to focus enough of the Force around himself to try to cushion his impact. He would have been more successful had he not spotted several aliens underneath his falling speeder and had to use the Force to yank them out of the way to save their lives. 

Then his speeder crashed into the ground, throwing him from it in a mighty upheaval of parts. The ground rushed up to meet him so he rolled himself into the tightest ball possible to try to absorb some of the shock of hitting the unyielding durasteel. His skin and Jedi robes ripped and tore as he bounced along the walkway that he had crashed onto. Humans and aliens screamed and ran to get out of his uncontrolled roll. He had almost come to a stop when his head slammed into a few containers of coolant that someone had stored along the walkway right beside the opening to a club, making him lose what little control he had over his roll. He finally stopped, flat on his back, and lay there, disoriented and his head reeling in circles.

Voices rose around him, asking in different languages and dialects if he was alright but he found himself so dizzy he couldn't think to give an answer. Dimly he wondered if he had a concussion.

Harsh, barking laughter made its way to his buzzing ears and he knew that the occupants of the transport were near him, gloating in their victory over him. And he was so dazed there was nothing he could do—not even concentrate enough to send a distress call to Master Dooku.

"Quick, give 'em the stuff!" One voice commanded.

Another man chuckled. "He's not going anywhere. He doesn't even look like he can open his eyes. The 'big, bad Jedi' is hurt."

Qui-Gon felt an insane need to prove them wrong. Using every bit of strength he had in him, he opened his eyes to gaze coolly at three men who looked like big, hulking clones of each other in black.

One man's eyes widened in fear and he pointed at Qui-Gon, who was attempting to get his feet underneath him. "Look! He's moving!"

The other two men swiveled around, surprise clearly evident on their faces. One of the two, a slightly larger man with blonde hair, grunted. "I give 'em credit for trying." Then he laughed, motioning to the side. "Give it to 'em. We don't get paid if we don't bring 'em in mostly one piece."

Qui-Gon felt a stab in his neck and he looked up in surprise at a fourth man who had been standing out of his line of vision. This man was as different from the three as he could possibly be: slim, dark-skinned, and black haired. He grimaced as he injected a liquid that was like fire into Qui-Gon's veins, almost in silent apology.

The fire spread into his limbs, causing them to go numb and limp. He gasped as he felt it traveling toward his brain and sucked in another breath as it hit his nerve center. His body spasmed once before darkness overtook him and he found himself gradually waking up to the female voice that seemed to both mock and pity him…


	2. Chapter 2

"Master Yoda, I don't know where Qui-Gon went," Master Dooku said in his calmly modulated tone as he walked very slowly beside the small, ancient Jedi Master. "He wasn't in his room after classes so I presumed he needed meditation time alone. Ever since his first master died, I try to give him space when he needs it; our relationship seems to work better that way."

Yoda's ears twitched. "Aware of this, I am, Master Dooku. Reprimanding you I am not. Still, concerned about Qui-Gon's whereabouts, I am."

Dooku sighed heavily. "I tried to get a sense of him a little while ago, near sunset, through our bond. He's either dampened his end of the bond—which is not unlike him lately—or something has happened to take him by surprise. I came to you, hoping that perhaps you knew something I did not."

"Impulsive Qui-Gon can be, though loyal to you he is becoming," the little green Jedi stated, surprising Dooku. He reflected a moment through the Force. "Nothing of the future can I see, Master Dooku. Confused matters are. Find your apprentice we should. Quickly. No hints in his datapad found you?"

Dooku shook his head, not seeing the splendor of the Temple as they walked. "I couldn't find his datapad, Master Yoda."

"Revealed in his datapad things will be," Yoda stated with firm conviction. "Find it you should."

Dooku nodded, then bowed. "Thank you, Master Yoda."

Yoda gazed at Dooku with concern. "Come to me when new information is found, you should. Grave I sense the danger to be."

Once again, Dooku nodded. "I will." Then he strode off to search every single corner of his Padawan's room, determined anew to find the missing datapad.

"Why are you helping me?" 

It was a little easier to move now and his words came out able to be understood, though his injuries from his fall, untreated and some infected, hampered his ability to think much more past the immediate moment.

The woman in the small, dark room with him stayed in the corner that she had placed herself when he had begun to be able to lift his head. She hid in the shadows, unwilling—for some reason—to be seen by him. 

A laugh mocked him. "I'm not helping you."

Qui-Gon first felt confusion, and then he was merely perplexed. "Yes you have. You somehow kept them from drugging me so I could become alert again. I consider that helping me. Why did you do it?"

Silence answered him at first. Finally, the woman softly said, "I know by your torn clothes that you are a Jedi. I'm doing this to help myself. If you can get out of here, then you can get me out of here. So I'm not helping you, Jedi—I'm helping myself. I'm helping myself," she repeated even softer.

Qui-Gon grunted. She could believe whatever she wanted as long as she helped him out. His mouth was dry, which prompted him to raise himself as much as he could to look around for anything that would help quench his thirst.

"What are you looking for, Jedi?" The woman inquired.

He sighed. "Water. Or food."

Now she really began to laugh. When she recovered enough, she choked out, "You must have really bumped that head of yours. You're supposed to be out of it and I'm supposed to die. They're not going to feed us."

For a few moments he ignored her laughter. Using what little strength he had recovered, he slowly dragged himself over to a wall and leaned himself against it so he was sitting up instead of lying down. He had feeling back in his upper body, but still no feeling in his legs or lower body. He sighed and then asked, "Why are you supposed to die?"

Her laughter cut off so abruptly that he thought maybe he had imagined it all along. Silence rang in the darkness, making him feel hemmed in and alone. When he thought that she wasn't going to answer at all, she whispered, "I committed the worse crime that could ever be committed, Jedi. That is all you need to know."

"If you committed that bad of a crime, then why should I help you gain your freedom?" He couldn't help himself from asking.

Even in the darkness he could tell she was scowling at him. Her tone of voice was deep and very unfriendly when she replied, "I kept them from killing you outright. When the time comes, I'm sure your Jedi heart will find room in it to save me."

Qui-Gon blinked, taken aback. Uneasy, he turned from her and focused on the pins and needles feeling that was beginning in his lower body. Experimentally, he moved his left leg and, aside from stiffness from being in one position so long, it seemed no worse for the wear. Then he decided to move his right leg. Pain like firebolts sped up his leg, making him gasp. He ignored the sound of a faint chuckle in the direction of the woman's corner and used his fingers to explore what had been done to his leg. Seeing by touch was difficult but he surmised that he must have twisted it when he had done his unceremonial rolling in Coruscant. The muscles were inflamed from being left in their condition for so long. He briefly wondered if it would hold his weight and shifted as if to stand to test it.

"Don't!" The woman barked at his movement.

His surprise caused him to lose what little balance he had gained and he landed hard on his buttocks. "Why not?" He snapped, close to losing his patience. He now doubted if she were human—her eyes were sharper at seeing in the dark than his own.

"They'll notice that," was her reply. "So far they don't know you're awake and moving around but if you stand up that'll change."

Qui-Gon directed a sullen look in her direction. Unable to stand without detection, he decided to try to contact Master Dooku. He only hoped that his head had stopped spinning enough for him to concentrate.

__

Master, he sent.

And waited.

The only reply he received was the sound of running boots nearing the door to his prison.

"What did you do?" The woman hissed, anger evident in her voice.

"I just used the Force," he shot back.

"Idiot! They're monitoring your brainwaves!" 

Qui-Gon scowled. "How was I to know? You're not exactly forthcoming with information, you know."

The boots stopped right in front of where the door most obviously was. Muffled voices bickered for a moment, then a lock clicked and the door swung open. Two men much like the ones that he had seen after his speeder crash stood there, one with a blaster trained on him, the other with a blaster trained on the corner where the woman was.

"You're wanted for _questioning_, Jedi," the one with his blaster trained on Qui-Gon sneered. "Get up and come along."

Now allowed to get up, Qui-Gon found that his right leg wouldn't let him without considerable pain and difficulty. Using the wall behind him as a prop, stalling to let his eyes adjust to the sliver of light being let in, he slowly levered himself to a standing position. Actually stepping was somewhat more of a problem as the pain increased tenfold with the addition of his weight.

He tried to glance around without being noticed. The prison he was in was a long room with no little comforts of any kind of sanitation or cleansing areas. The walls were ten feet high, one little window high up that he hadn't noticed before because it was nighttime on whatever world he was in. Streaks of light, crossed by another long smear of light, let him guess that he was on Coruscant still since the light streaks looked suspiciously like speeders and transports from a great distance away. Next he glanced to where the woman had been hiding to get a look at who he shared his prison with.

To his surprise, he found himself staring at a lithe Twi'lek girl, her light blue headtails wrapped around her neck, her _lekku_ twitching nervously as her big green eyes met his. Her expression was one of puzzlement as she saw his age and took in his Padawan braid.

And then the two men were shoving him out of the door, nearly causing him to stumble as his twisted right leg protested at its rough treatment. He caught his balance on the opposite wall of the corridor outside his cell door, his boots making clanging noises on the metal flooring. It was then he noticed that his arms and the palms of his hands were scraped and bubbled with dried blood. One long slash on his left arm had a faint twinge of green along the edges—a sure sign of deep and unhealthy infection.

"C'mon, Jedi scum," one of the brutes ordered gruffly, pushing him ahead of them. Both of the men had their blasters trained unwavering on him as they walked down corridor after corridor in what Qui-Gon was beginning to suspect was an abandoned office building. He made a mental note of all the turns and doors as they made their way deeper into the complex, finally stopping at a rather large double door.

One of the men, the one that hadn't touched him yet, pounded in a code next to the door. With a slight hiss, one side of the door slid open to reveal what resembled a bizarre twist of a medical bay. Medical beds lined the walls and the whole room was white, gleaming with shiny instruments on tables beside the beds. A large drainage area was in the center of the floor, causing it to slope somewhat. 

He had a bad feeling about this.

"Boss!" The large hulk of a man who seemed to like to push Qui-Gon yelled. "We got a present for ya!"

A thin man with long white-blonde hair emerged from a side room, wiping his bloody hands off on a towel. One finely-shaped eyebrow lifted in recognition of Qui-Gon and the young Jedi felt that the man was extremely surprised to see him.

The man contemptuously gestured to a medical bed that was on the opposite side of the room with the most instruments arrayed around it. Qui-Gon tried to hold his ground but the strength of the men coupled with his twisted leg quickly propelled him toward the bed. He gave little resistance as they strapped him to the bed with seamless restraints, carefully watching all they did in order to figure out how to escape it later.

The two men left, joking loudly about in what condition they expected to find Qui-Gon in later, and the thin man approached him cautiously, as if afraid he would bite.

Finally, in a smoothly cultured voice, he stated, "I did not expect to see you awake at all, young Jinn. I am most impressed. Most sentient beings who find themselves given clariochol are in a near coma for at least a week. The fact that you are awake to visit me shows me that you are more powerful than even your Master may have thought.

"But I am getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Baine. Perhaps you have heard of me?"

Qui-Gon wet his lips before answering. "Are you the one sending those messages to Master Dooku?"

Baine thought for a moment. "I believe I've sent some idle messages to your Master in my spare time, yes. Although, now that I have you awake, I won't have as much spare time as I did."

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes. "You set me up."

Baine shook his head, his long white-blonde hair flowing with the movement. "Tsk, tsk, young Jinn. Why use such harsh phrases? I merely took advantage of an opportunity that presented itself. You were that opportunity." He turned slightly to the side. "Lak'Phan!"

A Rodian scurried out to bow before Baine. "Yes, Boss?"

"Would you please begin the recording?" 

The Rodian, Lak'Phan, nodded and entered a room that Qui-Gon had not previously noticed before. He wondered how many rooms led off of this one that were hidden in the coloration of the walls.

Baine returned his attention to Qui-Gon. "A short explanation, if I may? Since you are awake, and another prime opportunity has offered itself to me, I will prove to your Master that I do indeed hold you prisoner. Perhaps the threat of what I could possibly do to you will convince him more than mere messages to reconsider his decision about the Yanna Prime conflict. Do you think it will? You know him so much better than I do."

Qui-Gon stared at Baine for a moment, convinced that his man had lost his mind somewhere in the Outer Regions of space. Finding his voice, he answered bravely, "No matter what you do to me, he will not retract any decision he has made. I can guarantee it."

Frowning, Baine sighed. "Then that presents us with a quandary, young Jinn. I suppose we'll have to find out if he will, shall we? He'll more than likely need a little…motivation. Let's give it to him. Lak'Phan, record."

Baine calmly bent over Qui-Gon and selected a metal hook, the point gleaming in the sterile lighting. Facing where the recording mechanism evidently was, directly in front of Qui-Gon, Baine said, "You, Master Dooku, have not taken my messages seriously about the Yanna Prime conflict. Your apprentice here decided to try to follow the source to discover who was the one sending them to you. Unfortunately, he was successful. He is also more of a handful than I imagined. You see, he was supposed to spend his time with me in blissful, drugged sleep. Instead, he overcame that somehow and I find myself with altered plans. But then again, perhaps this will better convince you to resolve the Yanna Prime conflict in a matter that I find pleasing—although, your Padawan seems to think not. Let us see which one of is right, shall we?"

Turning back to face a silent and defiant Qui-Gon, Baine let a cruel smile touch his perfect lips. He lifted the hook to let it catch in the light for better viewing, pausing to let the moment stretch while it allowed Qui-Gon to try to focus as much as he could into the Force to try to prepare himself.

The shining hook came down with hard force, jamming into Qui-Gon's chest. Whether by accident or by the Force, the hook had sunk into a space between two ribs and away from any organs. Qui-Gon held his breath, and his facial expression blankly, to keep the pain from making itself known to Baine or his Master.

Baine frowned, clearly not expecting to have a silent audience. Withdrawing the hook with a vicious twist that ripped more skin on its way out than when it had sunk in, Baine carefully placed the blood-covered hook on the little table to the side as his eyes pondered Qui-Gon.

"Young Jinn," he commented softly. "I need your Master to hear your cries, your whimpers, so that he understands the seriousness of this matter. You are not cooperating. Also, your tunic keeps me from seeing where I want to hit. I'm going to remove it. I apologize if the straps are a little chilly on your upper and lower chest."

_He's insane!_ Qui-Gon thought as Baine carefully, without undoing the straps that held him securely in place, lifted his tunic above his head. The skin on his chest pulled on the ragged hole that Baine had made and blood streamed from it to run down his muscular thighs. In dismay, he now knew full well what the drainage area in the floor was for.

"There," Baine spoke with satisfaction, leaning back to look at him as one looks at a particularly loathsome insect. "Now we can have more fun and see what we are doing, can't we?"

Qui-Gon's ire got the better of his mouth. "You're insane!" He voiced his thoughts from earlier. His eyes glittered into Baine's. "Master Dooku is a Jedi and will not give in to your demands, no matter what you do to me!"

Baine merely smiled, though his eyes grew even colder. "We shall soon see, young Jinn."

Dooku felt a strange numbness in his limbs that he couldn't explain. The feeling was almost like an echo of an old injury, though he had never been injured in the past in a way that would account for the feelings traveling up and down his arms and legs.

Sighing, the aging Jedi Master swung himself out of bed. His hunt for Qui-Gon's missing datapad had turned up nothing yesterday, even when he asked Qui-Gon's friends, Mace Windu and Kyran Josel, if they had seen it or known what Qui-Gon was up to. Arranging his robe around his shoulders, Dooku was getting ready to leave when a chime sounded at his door.

"Enter."

Blonde haired, green-eyed Kyran Josel ran into his quarters. The twenty-three year-old Padawan skidded to a stop in front of Dooku, all traces of his usual joviality erased from his face and replaced by anxiety. Dooku knew that ever since Qui-Gon had been five he and Kyran had had a strong mental link with each other that they had learned to shield against.

"What is it, Kyran?" Dooku asked Qui-Gon's best friend.

Kyran straightened his tall, muscular frame and turned beseeching eyes toward Dooku. "It's Qui-Gon, Master Dooku. I dropped my shields to him when you told me of his disappearance and his missing datapad and…" He paused, sucking in a deep breath. 

Dooku waited patiently for Kyran to continue but it seemed that Kyran was suddenly not with him any longer. His green eyes were glazed over, as if he were in deep thought, and then he cried out with pain. Dooku caught the younger man as his knees gave out.

"It's Qui-Gon," Kyran repeated, slowly regaining the use of his limbs and once again standing on his own. "He's being tortured, though I can't tell exactly what is happening to him."

Dooku knew better from previous experience with the two young men than to question Kyran's announcement. That would also explain the strange feeling that he himself had had when he woke up in his arms and legs.

He opened his mouth to inform Kyran that he was on his way to see Master Yoda when his communicator beeped.

"Master Dooku?"

Dooku frowned. "Here."

"Please report to the Jedi Council immediately," the young woman's voice stated.

Dooku flipped his comm unit closed and glanced at Kyran briefly. "Come with me, Padawan Josel. I have a feeling you will be useful as well. We'll contact Master Lan'al on the way."

The two headed out toward the Jedi Council chambers at a near run.


	3. Chapter 3

Master Lan'al, a tall man with salt and pepper-colored hair and an eyepatch over his right eye from an old injury, was waiting for the two to appear in front of the doors to the Jedi Council chambers. His eyes sought his Padawan's and Kyran quickly explained the situation to him. He pursed his lips together as he thought, then nodded briefly to Dooku in greeting.

The doors to the Council chambers began to quietly swing outward, stalling any further conversation. A little apprehensively, Kyran followed the two Jedi Masters in to the Jedi Council room and discovered that only Master Yoda, small and green, sat there. The other chairs stood vacant.

"Masters Dooku and Lan'al, good to see you so promptly, it is. Welcome again, Padawan Josel," Yoda began in his way. "Not so pleased with seeing me will you be after the news you have heard."

Dooku glanced around. "Master Yoda, where is the rest of the Council?"

Yoda peered at Dooku a moment. Finally, he said, "Debating elsewhere they are on the news we have received. Agree with me to inform you all of them do not." He tapped a button on the side of his bubble-like chair and a holoimage of a very blonde man, tall and thin, appeared in front of Yoda. "Know this man, do you, Master Dooku?"

Dooku frowned slightly as he thought. Finally he shook his head. "Only a little, Master Yoda. I know that I've seen him somewhere recently but I cannot place exactly where."

Yoda nodded, as if he already knew what Dooku's answer was going to be. "Thought as much did I. Worried at first I was not when this message I received. Graver things are hidden, I fear. Watch and listen, all of you shall."

The blonde man smiled cruelly at them. In a smooth, unruffled voice, he began, "You, Master Dooku, have not taken my messages seriously about the Yanna Prime conflict. Your apprentice here decided to try to follow the source to discover who was the one sending them to you…" 

Dooku, Lan'al and Kyran watched in horrified fascination as the man went on about Qui-Gon finding him. Then Baine moved, and Qui-Gon could be seen, staring defiantly at Baine, his jaw clenched and silent. Kyran's heart ached to see his friend strapped to a horizontal bed, defenseless save for the Force.

Next, Baine calmly sunk a hook into Qui-Gon's chest area. Qui-Gon's eyes widened with shock and pain, though he made no sound. Blood immediately began to soak into his Jedi tunic. Not satisfied, Baine removed Qui-Gon's tunic, still chatting away calmly.

_He's crazy,_ Kyran thought, his eyes glued to the scene before him and wincing slightly at the sight of the ragged hole in Qui-Gon's bared chest.

. Evidently Qui-Gon thought so too. "You're insane! Master Dooku is a Jedi and will not give in to your demands, no matter what you do to me!"

Baine merely smiled at Qui-Gon. "We shall soon see, young Jinn," he replied.

Kyran had a sinking feeling in his gut at Baine's words, knowing that it did not bode well for Qui-Gon. He was beginning to suspect what he had felt earlier was only the tailend of what had been done to his friend.

Baine swung the hook again and again, shifting his aim to different parts of Qui-Gon's body: his arms, his legs, his chest again, back to his legs. Each time he made no sound, though the muffled sound of deep inhalations of breath could be heard from Qui-Gon. Bravely, he kept as quiet as he could, determined to show no pain or fear, though a corner of one eye glistened wetly.

Baine paused and frowned. "Why do you not cry out to ask your Master to do as I ask? Am I not causing you enough pain? Be honest now."

Qui-Gon gathered in shallow breaths before he panted out, "I am a Jedi apprentice. Not matter what you do to me, I will not allow you to do something that will endanger the lives of many. I'm glad of Master Dooku's decision on the Yanna Prime conflict—it was just and fair. You must have been a part of the local resistance group that wanted all the traders banned from the planet. How do you expect to live without exports and inports to your planet? You don't produce enough to feed your population without it!"

The thin man seemed actually perplexed by Qui-Gon's passionate plea for the people on Yanna Prime. "But it is not what I want. What do I care if a few million die? We will have less people to feed therefore freeing more food to those left that survived."

Kyran felt his lips turn into a thin line. Yes, this man was most definitely crazy.

Qui-Gon, on the recording, silently regarded the man for a moment. Kyran had the feeling his friend was about to do something very rash. He was right.

In a low voice, Qui-Gon stated, "You are every inch the insanest person I believe I know or ever care to know."

For the first time, Baine seemed shocked. He and Qui-Gon stared at each other, one with blood running down his chest, arms, and legs to pool down into the drainage area, unheeded by either, and the other spotless except for his hands and the hook that he held. Suddenly, Baine seemed to lose his temper. He did not scream at Qui-Gon or lash out at the Jedi Padawan with obscenities—instead his eyes flattened, his nostrils flared, and he replaced the hook in his hand with a short, sharp knife.

Spinning around to directly face the recorder again, Baine, in a tightly controlled voice, whispered, "Now watch your Padawan suffer the consequences of your actions, Dooku. I will expect an answer from you within two Coruscant days."

Qui-Gon visibly braced himself, his eyes shining with pain, as Baine approached him again with the knife. With a short cut, Baine sliced horizontally into the left side of Qui-Gon's chest but no longer than an inch or so. Moving over only about a finger length, he made an identical cut, then joined the cuts at their tops with a vertical cut. Baine jabbed the knife into the uncompleted rectangle at the top, right underneath the top layers of the skin. Without a word or a sign of what he was doing, he grabbed the now loosened skin in both of his hands and _pulled_.

Qui-Gon screamed in anguish as the still-connected flesh resisted, though it was no match for Baine's anger. A long strip of his flesh now hung from his chest, blood pouring in a stream to color his pants a crimson-dark brown mix. Because of the amount of blood, the depth of the cut could not be determined by those watching in horror. 

As Baine began to copy his sadistic torture on the right side of Qui-Gon's chest, Qui-Gon opened eyes which he had squeezed shut from the pain and looked deep into Kyran's eyes. "Don't give in," he whispered, though Kyran could not tell if he was telling himself not to give in, or if he was afraid Dooku might actually give in to Baine's demands with what he was doing to Qui-Gon.

Baine, once again, jabbed his knife into the indention he had made to get a good place to hold and pulled. Qui-Gon screamed as if his soul were being torn from his body, a chilling sound that went on for a long time and raised goosebumps on Kyran's arms. Then Qui-Gon slumped, unconscious, and Kyran knew without a doubt that this was the pain he had felt from his friend almost an hour earlier.

Baine, now bloody himself from Qui-Gon's spilling blood, faced Master Dooku once again. "You have two days." The holoimages faded.

Master Yoda let the silence linger for a moment before he said, "Grave the situation is. React we cannot. No replies to this madman Baine can we give, or will we."

Kyran brought himself into focus, banishing the image of his friend's ripped open chest from his eyes as he forgot himself and demanded, "So you're going to leave him there?" Belatedly, he added, "Master Yoda?"

Yoda's large eyes turned to him and Kyran could have swore that the little alien seemed emotionally distraught. "Nothing can the Council do. No reply can Master Dooku send." He stared at Kyran another moment.

Kyran, a reply hot on his lips, suddenly paused. He felt as if Master Yoda were sending him a different reply than what he had verbally said…and then he understood it. A slight smile touched the corner of his lips and he bowed. Yes, the Jedi_ Council_ could do nothing or it would encourage other madmen to take apprentices hostage and torture them. Master Dooku was not allowed to send a reply either, but that did not mean that Yoda did not tell him he could not go after Qui-Gon. The little green being had most definitely not told Kyran he couldn't go.

That suited him just fine.

He glanced at Master Dooku and saw recognition in the Jedi Master's eyes as well of Yoda's hidden message. He bowed as well and began to leave, Kyran in his wake, forgetting about his own Master in his haste to start searching for Qui-Gon.

"A clue have you," Yoda called out, stopping the three near the still closed door. "Remember the white of the background you see. Take care to mind what you have learned."

The doors opened, releasing Kyran from the grasp of the little Jedi Master. Determined to find his friend, he lowered his defenses against Qui-Gon to check on his friend's condition. He was surprised to find that his friend was once again awake.

_Hold on, Qui-Gon,_ Kyran thought to his friend. _Help is on the way._


	4. Chapter 4

_Hold on, Qui-Gon…Help is on the way._

            Qui-Gon slowly drifted back into consciousness, the familiar voice fading from the blackness as his awareness sharpened.  He felt as if his chest were on fire.  Every breath was pure agony that pulled at the sores in his chest.  Embarrassingly, he felt like crying.

            "Relax, Jedi.  They haven't returned since they pushed you in here."

            It was the Twi'lek woman bending over him in the darkness.  He tried to take a deep breath in the chilly air and winced, moaning in pain.  It was as if he could feel every inch of skin on his chest—injured or not.

            "How…" He gasped out, then stopped his sentence because of the pain.

            He could almost sense the Twi'lek's smile.  "How long have you been back in here, Jedi?  A day perhaps.  No longer anyway.  I got the blood to clot so you're not bleeding rivers, though I must say I haven't seen Baine do that much to someone right off.  What did you do to him?"

            Qui-Gon's head swam.  He figured it was because of the amount of blood he lost.  He couldn't seem to focus properly on her words.  "I…nothing…I…" He stopped, losing his track of thought.

            The Twi'lek made a shushing noise.  A soft cloth dabbed expertly at his chest.  "Never mind for now, Jedi.  We can talk more later.  Just rest.  You seem to be healing pretty fast for what was done to you.  Some Jedi trick?"

            Perplexed, he shook his head in the semi-darkness.  "No…don't know that one yet." Talking was a little better now, though still each word felt like flaming fire through his chest.

            Silence stretched between them for a little while, with the Twi'lek cleaning his wounds.  Finally, she quietly asked, "What is your name, Jedi?  Calling you 'Jedi' gets boring."

            Qui-Gon detected a hint of forced laughter in her voice.  Trying to respond in kind from his position on his back, he reached a trembling hand out into the darkness where he could almost see her shape.  "Jedi Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn, at your limited service."

            A strong hand grasped his and shook it lightly.  "Raftla'ka, at yours, Jedi Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn.  What a pair we make: one wounded Jedi trainee and a coward-criminal."

            Qui-Gon settled back down on the hard, cold floor.  He let Raftla'ka tend to his wounds and tried to focus on the Force enough to heal himself so that he wouldn't bleed to death.  When he was fairly certain that he had stopped the main flow of blood, he let his body relax in mental and physical exhaustion.  The quiet and dark pressed in on him as he lay there, hissing through his teeth when Raftla'ka would accidentally press down too hard on his chest.  To occupy his mind, he finally asked, "Will you tell me now why you're down here?"

            For a moment he thought Raftla'ka was going to deny his request again, then she exhaled audibly.  "I am Baine's wife."

            Qui-Gon brought his head up sharply in shock, wincing from the pain pulling on his frayed skin caused.  "What?!  Why are you down here then?"

            Roughly she pushed him back down again and swore.  "Sithspit!  Jinn, if you don't stay in one place…" Quietly, he obeyed and let her tell her story in her own way.

            Dabbing at a trickle of blood that had begun again from his movements, she hissed, then began.  "I met him while I was dancing for a nightclub on Yenna Prime.  There's not much in the way of customers on a small planet like that but dancing isn't the only thing I can do.  I'm a slicer and bounty hunter; I just dance to keep my cover.  Many's the time someone else got fingered in a sting and the authorities clapped as I twirled near them, never guessing, the fools.

            "Baine knew what I did from the moment I met him; I never found out how.  He threatened to turn me in to the authorities if I didn't agree to some jobs for him.  It made no difference to me either way: hunting's what I do anyway.  Over the years we became very, very close—even more so when I didn't get out of the way fast enough of a job gone bad and got wounded.  He nursed me back to health and then we signed our papers stating that we were legally a couple and I became his wife.  Two years later, the authorities caught me.  Baine had already been beginning his own little insurrection but my capture spurred him faster into it.  He hired some of his men to break me out and brought me here.  I never agreed with his reasoning behind his little anti-government ploy and we eventually had a…disagreement…that turned violent.  He locked me in here to keep me out of his way and from leaving him.  And here is where I've stayed."

            "How long have you been here?" Qui-Gon inquired, shocked at Baine's depth of ruthlessness to have his own wife locked away for a disagreement.

            Raftla'ka clicked her teeth as she thought.  To pass the time, she continued to treat his wounds, half-distracted. "Hm…" She thought out loud. "Days get long here; weeks even longer until time seems to cease to matter.  I would estimate almost a year."

            Qui-Gon didn't know if it was the pain that caused him to not understand or the flawed logic he thought he saw in her answer. "How can that be, when he's only fled from Yenna Prime for a few months?"

            Raftla'ka stopped her administrations. Her tone was once again cold. "Don't be naïve, Jedi Padawan Jinn.  He's had this little hideaway since I've known him—just in case.  He doesn't like to be surprised and usually always has another plan for backup."

            "Is it on Coruscant?"

            Raftla'ka shook her head and Qui-Gon could only tell because the tips of her lekku brushed against his chest.  "No.  We are in the sector, on a satellite near Coruscant, but not on Coruscant.  Too risky to be there with the Jedi so near.

            "Now sleep, Jinn.  You need natural rest, not pain-induced unconsciousness.  I do not know what Baine intends but it seems to me that you are a pawn, accidentally caught in the middle of a personal vendetta.  He will not be through with you yet; you'll need your strength," she finished, her voice softening somewhat.

            Qui-Gon sighed and blanked his mind of all his questions of this complicated woman.  Perhaps later, after he was rested, he could gain more information about her and Baine's past.  He might could discover something to use against the tyrant.  Filled with thoughts of peace, he drifted to sleep.

            Kyran had to concentrate to keep his nerves from showing.  The two-day deadline was already half gone and he and Master Dooku were no closer to finding Qui-Gon than they were when they first knew he was missing.

            "Maybe we're doing this the wrong way," he suggested, sighing.  His fingers tapped lightly on the control panel in front of him where he had tried to match images of the white background behind Qui-Gon as he was being tortured to other similar backgrounds on various inhabited planets using the extensive computer in the Jedi Temple's library.

            Dooku raised a graying eyebrow in question. "And how do we do it the right way if we are not sure if we are doing this the wrong way?"

            Kyran was tired and worried sick over his friend in the clutches of that madman, Baine, so his tone was a little harsh as he threw his hands up and stated, "I don't know exactly.  Maybe it's not a planet.  Maybe it's not even populated, besides them.  We're just comparing populated planets, which makes sense since most psychos like to hide among other people."

            Calmly, Dooku suggested, "Then why don't you run the background against unpopulated planets in the Registry?"

            Kyran sighed again. "Yes, Master Dooku." He typed in his request and waited a few moments for the computer to follow his guidelines.  As he waited, he frowned slightly. "What are you doing, if you aren't helping me with this background search?"

            Dooku turned slightly toward him. "Researching all the past information I have on Baine Goddard.  I need to remember everything about him when we go to rescue Qui-Gon.  There may be a weakness in here somewhere."

            Kyran copied Dooku's eyebrow raising, though his just looked silly. "Find anything?"

            A smile tugged on Dooku's mouth and he suppressed a chuckle at Kyran's antics. "I might have.  There is a bounty hunter woman named Raftla'ka that is mentioned as having dealings with Baine, even signing a marital contract with Baine, but a year ago she disappeared after being rescued from a prison.  Some think she's Baine's right hand through all his recent dealings."

            "And what do you think?"

            Dooku pursed his lips. "I'm not sure yet, but 'accomplice' doesn't _feel_ right to me."

            The computer in front of Kyran beeped, signaling that it was done with its computations.  Swinging back around, the Jedi Padawan read the results and stifled the urge to hit something in frustration.

            "Find anything?"

            Kyran held his anger for a moment, then let it go. "No," he replied, "but I have one more thing to try." He typed in a few more commands and let the computer begin its new search.  Turning back to Dooku, Kyran quietly asked, "Is Qui-Gon adjusting to you now, Master Dooku?"

            Dooku glanced up from what he was reading about Baine.  A mixture of emotions flickered across his face for a moment before his face was collected and controlled again. "Mostly," he answered. "We still have our rough spots with trust issues.  Why do you ask?"

            Kyran shrugged. "I've been talking to him lately.  Just wondered." A devilish light appeared in his eyes and he faced the computer again, adding nonchalantly, "Of course, I did advise him that if he couldn't adjust to you, then we could change places—and masters—save us all some trouble."

            "Did you now?" Was the glacial response.

            Kyran laughed a little. "Yeah, but he said that he'd rather be with you than with Master Lan'al."

            Dooku allowed himself a small chuckle this time.  Kyran Josel could always make anyone laugh, no matter what the circumstances.  He made a great friend to Qui-Gon as his Padawan grew to trust again after his old master died.

            Once again, the computer beeped and Kyran glanced over at it, not really expecting it to find anything.  He was greatly surprised to see that the computer had targeted somewhere close to where they were.

            "Find something?" Dooku was suddenly peering over his shoulder.

            Kyran's fingers flew over the panel as he adjusted the images the computer had found. "I think so, Master Dooku.  I had the computer go over satellites when the planets turned up nothing, thinking that perhaps their moons would.  I asked the computer to go over the Registry of satellites that were populated and unpopulated.  Looks like the computer found a match.  And it's right here in this sector."

            "Satellite 89647B—unpopulated with lower oxygen levels than Coruscant but filled with caverns where a base had been built over forty years ago," Dooku summarized as he read the glowing words on the screen. "Assumed abandoned." He straightened. "That's our destination."

            Kyran nodded. "All the inside walls of the base are made out of cholorosis marble, which is the white background we saw in the film with Qui-Gon.  Looks like everything fits exactly."

            Dooku turned to leave the small room that they had been occupying for almost the entire past day.

            "Where are you going?" Kyran called after him.

            Dooku shot him a look that suggested that Kyran was daft. "After Qui-Gon."

            Kyran shot to his feet. "Not without me, you don't." Belatedly he added, "Master Dooku." Stubbornly he lifted his chin.  "I can be a great asset to you in finding him."

            Dooku hesitated.

            Kyran folded his arms. "Do you want me to come with you, or do you want to find me as a stowaway on the ship after you take off?"

            After a moment, Dooku shook his head, trying to hide his grin. "All right.  But let Master Lan'al know where you are going first.  I'll be getting us a ship ready."

            Kyran grinned.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: My apologies to those who have been waiting on the continuation of this story. The floppy I had it on decided to refuse to open anymore and I was so upset I just gave it up for a while. A recent review by Anotherchance convinced me to keep going. Thank you, Anotherchance, you have lived up to your name on this one for this fic.

Side note: I'm also writing a lot of little fics with a joint author, Layren. We have come up with a series called Endurance. The first of these, Growing Pains, should be up by the time this chapter is also added. Feel free to check those out as well.

            Qui-Gon groaned in his half-sleeping state.  His chest burned from the wounds he had recently received and his older injuries ached.  He hoped somehow that Kyran and Master Dooku would hurry up and find him. He had lost so much blood that he was too weak to even lift his head.

            Raftla'ka gently stroked his hair.  She was humming an older lullaby from her homeworld, Ryloth, to him to help calm him.  In the past few hours his condition had worsened considerably and she had grown enough concern for him to drop most of her cold demeanor to attend to him.

            "Tell me…again…" Qui-Gon panted, suddenly desperate to hear her voice. "Tell me again…of your days as a dancer on Yenna Prime."

            He could feel Raftla'ka smile in the darkness the kept them company. "Yenna Prime was a small planet that housed a few thousand beings of differing species that had only one thing in common: the desire to see a professional Twi'lek dancer…" She began.

            Kyran jumped up from his seat as soon as their ship touched down on the satellite near Coruscant.  He grabbed the two breath masks that were kept above the ramp and shoved one at Master Dooku as he slid his on his own face.  His anxiety for Qui-Gon only grew by the hour.  Every time he checked on his friend through the Force, his friend's presence was dimmer.  Qui-Gon was dying and needed help.

            Master Dooku fitted the mask onto his face and drew his lightsaber, but did not yet light it.  His voice filtered through the mask, he said, "Try not to kill anyone but don't let anyone stop you from doing what needs to be done, Kyran."

            Kyran nodded, his green eyes hard.  If anyone tried to get in his way to Qui-Gon, then they would not last long against him, so great was his resolve.

            "Let's go get Qui-Gon," Dooku ordered.

            Kyran rushed down the ramp into the thin atmosphere, feeling a bit chilly but warmed from the inside at the thought of finding his friend.  There was a lone, small building on the surface near them with a stout door that obviously led down into the satellite to where the underground base was.  Oddly enough, there were no guards visible.

            Dooku glanced at Kyran.  He had noticed the absence of guards as well.  Silently, he motioned Kyran to take the right of the door as he took the left.  Moving swiftly, the two Jedi approached the door cautiously, though nothing threatened them.

            Dooku opened the door and peered inside at the turbolift waiting there.  He shook his head and stepped into the turbolift, Kyran following.

            "This is too easy," Kyran voiced what Dooku was thinking.

            Dooku nodded.  After a few moments, he felt the air warm on his skin and he experimentally took of his mask.  Breathing in deep, he found the air was once again properly mixed.

            Kyran removed his mask, letting it dangle at his neck.  He shifted his grip on his lightsaber.  "I wish we knew exactly where Qui was being held," he said wistfully.

            "Keep your mind on the here and now and on what we can accomplish," Dooku entoned, distracted by reaching out with the Force to get a reading of the base.  He sensed several beings nearby but no more than twenty.  "Not a lot of people here for a base," he commented.

            Kyran nodded. "Makes one wonder if Baine really thinks he has a chance on Yenna Prime or if he's just frustrated and wants to take it out on someone." His eyes glanced over to Dooku as he added the last part.

            Dooku met his glance. Calmly, he said, "It does indeed."

            The turbolift stopped.

            "Ready yourself," Dooku commanded, bringing his own lightsaber up into a guard position, though still leaving it unlit.

            Kyran mimicked his stance as the doors opened…to reveal a deserted corridor.

            Kyran frowned but refrained from commenting as he and Master Dooku walked slowly down the hall.  Occasionally they would pass a closed door with no windows in it of any kind.  Kyran and Dooku would stop and use the Force to search for Qui-Gon before finding nothing and passing on.

            They were almost to the end of the corridor when Kyran held out a hand. "I feel him.  Right here."

            Dooku nodded and examined the controls of the door.  With his usual abruptness, he took his lightsaber, lit it, and melted the controls.  Using the Force, he grabbed the door and forced it open.

            A blue skinned Twi'lek woman crouched in the light flooding the small room, kneeling beside a pool of blood that Qui-Gon lay in.  His eyes were closed and he made no sign of knowing they were there.  Kyran saw that his skin was waxy and had an unnatural, unhealthy pallor to it.

            The Twi'lek slowly stood to face them, her clothing ragged tatters.  Her luminous yellow eyes regarded them for a moment before she bowed slightly. In a deep voice, she said, "You must be Qui-Gon's rescuers.  You came almost too late.  He is unconscious and I'm not sure he will awaken."

            Kyran rushed in to see his friend's condition up close.  The Twi'lek backed away, moving slowly as if she had not had the freedom of movement in a long time.  Her skin stretched taunt over her bones but she still possessed a grace about her bearing.

            Dooku bowed his head slightly to her. "You must be Raftla'ka," he said. "I am Jedi Master Dooku and this is Jedi Padawan Kyran Josel.  You…"

            A chuckle behind him interrupted his words. 

            "So I see you have decided to answer in person, Master Dooku.  That is very good, very good."

            Dooku turned slowly to face a grinning Baine.  Coolly, he replied, "My only answer to you is that I will not change my decision or my stance on the Yenna Prime matter.  Instead of merely being an outlaw on your planet, you are now also a kidnapper and attempted murderer and I will bring you in to the Jedi Council to be charged formally."

            Baine stopped smiling and looked perplexed. "Is that your answer then?"

            Dooku nodded.

            With startling swiftness, Baine whipped out a small holdout blaster and fired.  By all rights, Dooku knew he should be dead at that close of range.  Instead, Raftla'ka had charged out of the shadows and leaped in front of him, taking the blast meant for him.  She did not immediately crumple to the ground.  She let her charge take her straight into Baine, her talons outstretched.  They fell in a heap, out of Dooku's line of sight at the door.  By the time that he had quickly made his way to the corridor, Baine was dead by Raftla'ka's claws, his face, throat and chest raked open.

            Dooku bent over the fallen Twi'lek.

            She labored to breathe. "I've…been waiting for that…for over a year now…" She gasped. "Tell…Qui-Gon…that I…helped myself…after all." Her eyes widened slightly and she relaxed, dead, next to her husband.

            Dooku gently closed her eyes in respect.

            "Master Dooku?" Came Kyran's voice from the room.

            Dooku rapidly stood and returned to the prison room where his apprentice had been kept.  He took in Qui-Gon's appearance quickly and hooked his lightsaber to his belt. 

            "I'll carry him.  He needs the Healers," he said as he bent down and picked up his limp padawan.

            No one challenged them as they returned to their ship, Kyran and Dooku sharing Kyran's breath mask as they jogged in the thin atmosphere, Dooku's on Qui-Gon's face.  Within twenty minutes of touching down, they were off again, racing against time to get Qui-Gon healed at the Temple.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a close call.  The Jedi Healers had had to work fast to save the young padawan's life, but they had indeed succeeded.  

            Kyran sat, restless, in the large room that housed his friend in a bacta tank.  Qui-Gon had been in the tank for over forty-eight hours straight now.  In all of his lifetime, he had never heard of someone being kept in a bacta tank for that long without being taken out for short breaks.

            It proved to him how seriously Qui-Gon had been injured.

            "Still here, Kyran?" Master Dooku inquired as he walked up to him and then sat beside him.  "Did you go to your quarters to sleep at all?"

           Kyran shook his head. "No, Master Dooku.  Master Lan'al has let me decide where I need to be.  My place is here, with Qui-Gon.  Besides, the Healers are going to finally take him out soon."

            "I know," Dooku smiled at him.  "That is why I'm here."

            The two Jedi turned as a Healer padawan called out the time to her master.  The Jedi Healer on duty was a Bothan with kind eyes—not a trait that most in his species had.  He glanced at the readings of Qui-Gon's vitals once more, then nodded.  His padawan eagerly tugged at the cord of the breath mask.

            Qui-Gon's eyes slowly opened and he kicked weakly to propel himself up through the pink goo.  Kyran and Dooku stood and patiently waited for him to be carefully led down to them.

            "It's so good to see you awake!" Kyran exclaimed, almost wringing his hands in an effort to stop himself from hugging his very weak and exhausted friend.

            Qui-Gon smiled wanly at him.  "Thanks for being here, Kyran," he said in a voice no more than a whisper.  Then he dropped his head.  "I'm sorry, Master Dooku."

            Dooku frowned.  "Whatever for, Padawan?"

            "I disobeyed both you and Master Yoda by going after some leads about who was threatening you.  In doing so, I endangered myself, you and Kyran.  I will take any punishment you seem fit to give me," he said glumly.

            Kyran glanced at Dooku, only then remembering that Qui-Gon had indeed disobeyed his master in order to go find information.

            Dooku pondered a moment and then slid his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robes.  "Qui-Gon, look at me," he commanded.

            Qui-Gon swallowed and did as he was asked.

            Dooku held his gaze for a moment.  "Though I am not happy that you disobeyed my direct orders…" He smiled a little. "I am glad that you are safe now, and alive.  We will discuss punishment later.  For now, just concentrate on recovering."

            For a moment, Qui-Gon was stunned speechless.  Then, he wrapped his arms around his master and began to cry, letting all of his hurt and fear from his ordeal come out.

            Dooku was caught off-guard by Qui-Gon's behavior.  This was the first time that Qui-Gon had voluntarily touched him.  Then he smiled and folded his padawan into his arms.  "It's okay now," he whispered to his hurting padawan.  "You are safe and you were every inch a Jedi as you took the pain that Baine gave you.  I am very proud of you, Qui-Gon.  Very proud."

            Kyran patted his friend on the back and they all three stood together for a little while.  Finally, Qui-Gon had recovered himself enough to ask, "Where is Raftl'ka?  Did you free her while you were there, Master Dooku?" His blue eyes gazed at his master in concern for the brave woman who had shared a cell with him and kept him alive.

            Dooku briefly closed his eyes in grief.  He had hoped to save this piece of news for later, but since Qui-Gon had asked, he could not keep it from him.  "I'm afraid I have bad news for you, my Padawan," he began gruffly, and then told him how she had died and what she had wanted him to know.

            Through Qui-Gon's tears, he smiled.  "She accomplished what she wished, then," he said simply.  "I'm glad for her and that she has found her peace."

            Dooku gazed at his padawan for a moment and then enfolded him in a hug again.  This strong boy would make a fine Jedi Master one day, and in turn he would train other padawans to become just like him in the Order.  At that moment, he could not have been more honored to be his master, or more proud.

THE END

---Sorry it took so long to finish everyone. Thanks for hanging in there!! 


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